Retribution
by BoredTodai
Summary: [Revised] Varus has joined the League of Legends. The Institute's magic, slowing the progress of his corruption. His life was dedicated to revenge, but now, the new champions that he meets gives his life new purpose. [Varus x Syndra]. Chapters coming out soon. Cover art by Cirath.
1. Chapter 1

_4-7-2014 _

_Hey, this is BoredTodai, just here to say that I am making changes. I've had reviews that I have agreed with whole-heartedly. Before those reviews came in, I felt as if something was very wrong and I wanted to change what has been written, but I haven't done anything until now. I guess the short excuse is that I rushed through this as fast as I could in order to get the ideas out of my head without second thought. Many of the chapters are getting slightly revised and a few will be making an exit as I finally decide the focal plot points. Sorry for not updating in a while, I just felt like I needed a more concrete understanding of my situation. So, with that being said, here is the story; as of now._

* * *

**This is my first fanfic. I'm an avid Varus player and have recently read fanfics on here and Varus has almost no material for him. So here is my best shot for a story about Varus' reasons for joining the league and his relationships within it. As with most stories on here, please review this so I can know what to do to make this story better. -BoredTodai**

* * *

**Chapter One: A New Home**

* * *

From the bed in the plain room in a dark hallway on the east end of the Institute of War, arose Varus. His league title was "The Arrow of Retribution" and like an arrow, he was flexible, strong, deadly and followed one path. The man -–creature, that was Varus stood, walked over to the mirror affixed to the wall across from his bed, shared by the door. He looked into the reflection and for once didn't see any new signs of corruption.

The tattoos of the Clever Owl were held unblemished from the blight that remained of his once pure body. Again, Varus wondered if that was what held Pallas off. His eyes were gray, surrounded by the tattoos that ran underneath them; like talons or tears, he was unsure. His hair was tied back behind him except for a loose strand that fell over the diadem he wore on to the gaunt face he had. His hair, mocking his youth, was no longer a deep brown, but changed to a white that reflected his cursed state. His chest was bare, save for a strap that once held a quiver and pauldron in place on his shoulder; the circular buckle's stone was shattered, once being a brilliant amber stone, but now a dark grayish-blue.

His legs, or what remained, were a writhing mass of violet tendrils, not being able to decide if they should be viscous or solid. The horror rose to only the base of his midsection, showing off his toned abdominal muscles and lithe body. The crawling heap may have stopped at the tail end of the owl that stretched down his back, but it resumed on the forearms past the beak of the wise bird; extending into false gauntlets, whose finger tips radiated a teal blue.

Around his neck, Varus observed the long, red scarf he wore, a present from his wife. His eyes teared up as he grabbed the head of a poorly shaped stone arrowhead his son gave him before his corruption.

* * *

"How are you so good dad?" Threshan pleaded with his dad.

"It took me a lot of practice, son," Varus replied, continuing, "And my father taught me the same way that I'm teaching you." The rock in Threshan's hand was triangular, but due to his haste, a chunk of stone was missing in one edge. "Besides, for your first try, this is amazing," he comforted, placing a hand on his son's curly, blonde hair.

"One day, I'm going to make better arrows than you!" Threshan said with renewed determination, his eagerness, a staple of his youth.

Varus was the temple guard, he wasn't going to be around as much as he should, but he was certain that someday, he wouldn't have to worry about the man that his son would one day become.

Or... would have become…

* * *

_They will know regret,_ Varus thought angrily, reaching for the list, under the cracked stone of his old pauldron straps, that he memorized, with the names of the guilty.

A knock at the door startled him, though he showed none of it through his regained composure.

His face, cold and aloof, was greeted by the short Summoner Felisia. Her purple hood was pulled back and the extremely warm smile was again causing distrust run through Varus' mind. _It was an unnatural happiness_ he decided. "You're being summoned Varus, aren't you excited?!" She said in a voice that wasn't too loud, but broke the silence of the dark gray corridor enough to seem like a scream.

"Thrilled," Varus responded sarcastically.

"Oh come on, you've just passed the Judgment and now you're telling me you don't even want to do what you came here for?" Felisia scolded him with dark eyes much to the contrast of those staring holes through her. Hesitantly, she told him further, "The match starts in thirty minutes, you should get ready and head to central courtyard before then, so the others can get you to the Rift." After Varus said nothing, unmoving, not showing any emotion, she went on, "By the time you get back from your grand debut, the seamstresses should have clothes to... suit you," she decided carefully, observing the mass under his navel, reaching the ground, "Are you sure you want to housed here, by the way?" Felisia asked, still as incredulous as when he asked to be roomed far from the other champions, lest Pallas finally wretch from his control.

The first room they wanted to give him was far too big, his possessions would barely cover any of the space in the grand room they offered him near the champion Syndra, another person decidedly wanting to be far from the others as Varus, albeit different reasons. When he asked for something that was much smaller, they came to the idea, after some arguing, to put a bed in a spare storage room to the first they offered.

Again, just as when he was questioned before, he answered, "This room suits me fine, the other would wind up being a waste of space, give it to the next champion that comes."

Seemingly unsatisfied, Felisia left with her unnerving smile after repeating the time and place he needed to be in half an hour.

Varus shut the door, back pedaled and summoned the liquid bow from his arm. He fancied it in his palm, the grip like a glove and the four staves reaching in pairs away from each other. He drew his fingers of his left hand to the area above his grip and pulled back. Not to his surprise, but still to his interest, a sharp apparition of an arrow materialized from the air, the liquid-like air pooling to a point before his fist.

This time when the door knocked, his startle caused him to release the grip on the shade of an arrow and the bolt was sent flying. Luckily, it hit the wall next to the door instead of the door itself. The point was wedged deep in the stone and he knew that if he hit the door, the arrow would have passed through without much effort.

He dashed to the door quickly and opened it to see an equally worried woman on the other side. Her eyes, the same purple as his corruption and their hair was the same shade of gray-white. Where his was strung back, hers fell forward covering much of her forehead before being swathed to behind her ear. Her skin was pale and covered with an informal black and purple cloth that reached past her wide hips, where two legs, clothed in skin-tight leggings extended to the floor. Her gray brows were writ in concern and her hands were outstretched to her sides, warped purple and black spheres floating from the ends.

"Is everything alright?" She asked urgently, "I heard a thud and thought something was wrong or something."

"No, my apologies," Varus lied, not wanting to show his weaknesses, "I just got startled and fell off my chair." He looked the woman over; from descriptions he heard back in his old homeland, Varus recognized the girl in front of him to be Syndra, if not in her usual gear. Funny, he thought_, she doesn't seem that evil and threatening as the stories make her out to be_.

"Well then," she said, relaxing the tension in her body, allowing the spheres to dissipate into auras surrounding her sinuous form. "My name is Syndra, I'm your neighbor," she pointed to darker area down the hall, even further east than his. "I just wanted to come down here and introduce myself before your first match..." A pause extended for a few seconds with Syndra shifting weight onto her other foot as Varus looked forward, unreadable.

"I'm Varus, Dark Sovereign," he replied cautiously, adding, "I've heard about you back in Ionia."

"O-oh, well, they aren't really that accurate!" She said, color arriving rapidly to her cheeks, embarrassment and shame coming across in drones.

"We'll for one, you're shorter than they make you out to be, but nonetheless, dangerous all the same, I'm sure," Varus stated nonchalantly.

"I've heard about you too, but no one ever said you didn't wear clothes," she replied, trying to change the subject to a more trivial matter, but to no avail as Varus slammed the door in her face, anger very apparent on his face.

_Damnit_, she thought, loneliness returning to replace her misplaced hope. Turning with a deep frown, shattering her façade and wishing she was just normal instead of the freak that they thought she was.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Again, reviews would be much appreciated._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Earning his Keep**

* * *

Varus arrived to central courtyard early. He was decidedly glad that he did, because he got to scope out his opponents in the next match. He was glad that no Noxians were on his team.

As he was searching for familiar Ionian faces in the growing group of people, a woman, wearing a blue dress that lazily fell just past her shoulders approached him. Her blue hair fell around her, spreading wide, but falling a few inches short of the flattened harp of an instrument that surrounded her, floating.

The calming music she strummed was very contradictory to the invasion he suddenly felt into his mind, not unlike Pallas' cries to him from time to time. He was surprised when the voice that echoed in his thoughts was a woman's instead of the baritone of the old, evil king that spoke to him on occasion.

_I'm Sona. Today I am to help you in the rift, _She... transmitted. _I'm you partner for today_, she thought, eyes tracing the lines of the muscles etched onto his chest. He made out an image, but due to its sudden nature, Varus only saw that it was of him and her, but he couldn't make out more before the image fell away completely. It only lasted for a few seconds, but what he did see made Sona blush, skip a string in the scale she was playing and look away in embarrassment that mimicked the impressions he felt in his brain from her.

After a few, quiet, tense moments of silence, Varus asked, ignoring what just happened, _Who are we facing?_

Deciding to likewise pretend nothing occurred, Sona responded in thoughts, _Graves and Leona_. A image came this time of a burly, middle aged man with a huge 2-barreled gun in hand and a tall, armored woman whose armor reminded him of the sunrise on the nearby lake of his old home.

"The Match is starting soon, come, we will send you now," a tall summoner, with a short, trimmed, brown beard said behind a purple hood; abruptly in a demanding voice.

"Are you sayin' that I gotta face-that-in lane?" The man who was Graves asked their top-laner, a man with a huge sword he dragged across the ground.

"I guess clothes are optional here," the barbarian said, chuckling.

* * *

The match wasn't even close.

0-12-3 wasn't a score Varus was proud to admit. He felt his ribs with his blue fingers, amazed at how the league's magic healed the huge hole that was there merely minutes ago. He shivered, remembering each of his pseudo-deaths. Pain, always so cold before he felt the reanimation bring his body back to full vitality.

He never imagined what death would be like, but he was starting to question his time, recently. He clouded his own thoughts and returned to reality.

"I guess they just let anyone join the League. That new guy was terrible. I'm honestly surprised he passed the Judgment," Leona said to their midlaner within clear earshot from Varus and Sona, not caring if they heard or not.

_I'll play better next time, _Sona pleaded, feeling guilty and ashamed.

_They were just lucky_, Varus shot back, anger and frustration apparent on his face. _If Lee didn't gank us so early, we could've won, easily._

Felisia walked up to Varus from behind, before Sona could tell him anything else, "You might not have done so well out there that game, but you get a second chance today," she told him, smile wide, "One of our top summoners wants you in the game five minutes from now."

Varus' legs felt weak, the endurance buff of the Rift fading. "I do what I must," he responded, leaving Sona, without saying goodbye.

* * *

They match over some burned land in Ionia was about to start. The nobleman demanded some form of reparation, but the Noxians who he accused denied doing anything to the land.

Varus found the whole argument a waste, the land was only grass and rocks before. If anything, the land would be easier to grow crops on now and be worth more money. Unfortunately, neither party would give up arguing and demanded a match to be played to decide the outcome of the dispute.

Thresh laughed, "How long until I get to see Pallus, Varus?" He asked, the bones of his skull attempting a horrendous smile. They both stood on the fountain that was a symbol of their "base" in the Rift.

"Not for a long time," Varus lied, pressing forward at the start of the second match of his career as a champion.

"Back when I was still alive, I heard stories of how cruel he was to his subjects; it would be delightful to speak to one of my greatest inspirations," Thresh smirked from the shop keeper, picking up a couple of wards.

"Focus on the battle," Varus responded dishearteningly.

"I saw that last match. If anything, you'll be holding me back," Thresh started hackling his demented laugh again.

* * *

3-6-5 was better than his first game, but he had to admit, he did hold Thresh back. Twice he missed his chaining root and got them killed, Thresh's only two deaths.

They still won, but that didn't stop the champions making fun of him after the match.

"Maybe he's so weak, because he keeps tripping on his scarf," a woman in a purple dress and large hat said in a thick accent to her support, a levitating blonde woman with a dove circling her, clothed in white.

"Oh come on Cait, the summoners just don't know how to use him yet," the tan woman beside her said in a breathy voice.

"You're only saying that because he's practically naked out there; do I have to remind you of the first time you fought against Lee Sin?" The woman with the large gun, Cait asked, a mischievous smile crossing her face.

* * *

Varus felt his anger rising, but endured it. It was not his choice to look the way he does, he argued with himself. He wasn't broken. No, and no matter what Thresh said, Pallus was still under his control.

He started walking to his room in the east of the enormous palace that was the Institute of War. The effects of the Rift slowing wearing off as he felt the pain rise in his sore arms and legs. The anger he felt allowed him to ignore all but the knowledge of it as he came up to his door.

Twisting the handle, he opened his quarters. Once inside he pulled open the wardrobe, expecting to find a towel or clothes, but all Varus found was dust of unuse. _So I guess the Seamstresses haven't found my size yet,_ Varus thought bitterly. He wanted to take a shower and sleep, exhaustion was starting to overwhelm his muscles. Sighing, he turned and walked down the hall to room of Syndra.

He knocked twice and waited, hoping she could give him instructions on how to request towels for his room. But when he got no response, he knocked again, fancying that maybe she didn't hear him the first time. This time, it only took a few seconds for the door to swing open, showing the Dark Sovereign in the same clothes he saw her in a few hours prior.

"Oh, hey Varus, what are you here for?" Syndra said, not hiding the surprise on her face; apparent in the first syllables of the sentence.

"I just want to know who I have to ask to get a towel. I'm afraid that I haven't gotten any yet," Varus replied, calmly.

"Oh yeah, sure," Syndra laughed, continuing when she saw him staring, eyebrow raised, "Sorry, I just thought I made you really angry earlier..."

Varus replied, by putting on a small, obviously fake, smile.

Deciding to retrieve the promised towel instead of take the full front of his gaze, she left the doorway, allowing Varus to see inside the simplistic room. Eyeing the wooden floors and vaulted, high ceiling, he was still taken aback by the free luxury offered by the league in exchange for your free will. Even though the room wasn't bare, it certainly wasn't well furnished. Varus was able to see through the windows in the back with his keen eyes, trained in the years before the Noxians invaded, not yet losing their edge. Out looked to a beautiful forest down the slope, wild deer breaking through the tree line in the evening sun, warming their backs as they grazed on vegetation.

Sitting on a table near the back was a plate of food, the smell alluring him until he choose to ignore what he guessed to be some kind of familiar, Ionian, chicken and rice. Behind the table sat a single pillow, where Varus guessed she was sitting before he knocked on her door.

Syndra came back, a gray towel in hand. "Here, just be sure to get it back to me when you get yours," She told him, composure regained.

Varus said nothing and nodded, turning away from the alluring smell of meat and a woman he decided was overly kind to the half-monster that occupied the doorway moments ago.


	3. Chapter 3

**Quick little note, thanks for the kind words and views/favorites/follows and support. I've decided to make this chapter a little bit longer than the previous ones and I did kind of make it a little more dark and twisted... so in preparation for future chapters, I'm going to change the rating to MA just incase.**

**That being said, Thanks for those who are reading and do me a favor and drop a review for me to read hopefully telling what i'm doing well and more importantly what I am not doing well, this is my first fanfic, so I'm looking to improve. :) -BoredTodai**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Just a Dream**

* * *

"Hey, honey," his wife's cooed from the door way of their modest house, her gentle voice greeting him like a dove. Her face was a picture of beauty, dark eyes with her uncommon blonde hair for the island of Ionia, making her highly prized woman in her hometown. Her smile, as gentle as her voice. She was tall for a woman, standing a head shorter than Varus, but she was leaning on the threshhold, making herself appear shorter than what she was. _Beautiful,_ Varus prided himself on.

"You look beautiful," Varus replied as he closed the distance between them, adding, "Whatever you're cooking smells wonderful."

"Oh, it's just some Dhania and rice," Eliana replied, a small smile filling her face, she knew that, the seasoned chicken was one of his favorite dishes.

Varus leaned into her for a quick kiss, wrapping his arms behind her back.

"Ewww, that's disgusting!" Threshan called from the house, eliciting soft laughs from Eliana and a throaty chuckle from Varus.

"So what have you done since I was away at the temple?" Varus asked his son, crouching down to be at his level.

"Well, he did get in a fight yesterday, didn't you?" Displeasure evident from Eliana as her brows drew together.

"Fawkes punched me first!" Threshan complained.

"You still shouldn't-" Eliana started before Varus started whispering to Threshan.

"Did you win?" He asked his son in a voice designed not carry beyond his son's ears.

"Yep, I did exactly what you told me to," Threshan whispered, beaming at his father.

Eliana, defeated, finished, "Just, next time, make sure you don't break his nose, his mom was furious."

Varus laughed and straightened out, rubbing Threshan's head, messing up his hair.

...

Something felt wrong...

...

The family walked to the kitchen, stopping long enough for Varus to set down his bow and quiver. As they sat down and Eliana served the two boys their food, Varus felt queasy.

He looked to his arms, their tanned skin sweating. He wiped his brown hair out of his eyes, feeling the dampness that accompanied it.

"Are you alright?" Eliana asked, her beautiful, delicate face in a look of concern and fear.

Varus turned around in his seat, oddly, ignoring his wife. What he saw was fire. The whole wall was aflame. He turned back, "We need to leave, c'mon, hurry!"

"What are you talking about, sweetie?" She asked, her brow knit in confusion.

He felt a wetness in his boots. Looking down, under the table, he saw damp mud, and the sweat in his boots was cold. The images of death that accompanied were hunting him, like it was desperate wolf, lumbering his way without second thought. Varus was unable to escape the animal, his feet, stuck in place.

When he looked up and wished he hadn't. His son lay on the table, eyes still open, pretending to be alive, although the wicket gashes in his back, displaying the red of his flesh and white of some bones protruding from his back seemed to say otherwise. The blood dripping off of the table was enough to prove that he was gone. His blonde hair no longer the golden Varus was used to seeing, but held highlights of the same dark red as the fire and blood around him.

His wife, beautiful, no longer. Her smooth face covered in bruises, tear stains running through the dirt that started on her cheeks. Her clothes were ripped apart, laying around her naked, broken body. Her throat was cut open, turning the ground around her to mud. He retched and vacated his stomach, imagining what must have happened to his wife before they killed her.

Varus sprang awake. Tears streamed down his face, a grimace attached to his lips as he felt the sweat stick him to his bed. _I will show no mercy,_ he cried out in his head. "I will find them," he cried out in his room.

* * *

People didn't regularly summon Varus. Since his first few games, two weeks ago, most of the institute considered him ill-fit to be a champion. Most champions avoided him altogether, so he was surprised when Irelia, the captain of the Ionian guard, showed up to his room one quiet day.

"Can I come in?" She asked him when he didn't move from the doorway.

"What's this about?" He asked her, backing to the small table that was in his room. The chairs around it, extremely simplistic and made with cheap wood, but sturdy and reliable.

"Well, I won't lie, I'm honestly concerned," she instructed him.

He decided to remain silent and see what she had to say.

"Ok." She started, face blank, segmented sword calming floating behind her. "You are corrupted. We can both agree on that. I'm not sure when you'll go and I hope you won't. I've heard of the pit of Pallus and what it does."

Varus, noticing the hostility and concern replied, "Thank you for your observations, but Pallus is under my control."

"Well, maybe now, but for how long, Varus? How long until you might harm one of the other champions or summoners?" She asked.

Varus, not knowing what to say and not wanting to say anything, decided to not say anything. He looked at her with eyes full of cool contempt, as if her presence only slowed him down; like her concerns had no justification, as if he didn't think so similarly.

Getting up from the table, Irelia added, "I just came here to tell you that I am glad for all of your work in Ionia and that if you need someone to take back control from the corruption for you when you turn, I'm here."

She left the room and Varus shut the door on her, _she doesn't understand_, he thought. _She couldn't stop me,_ he thought, worry coming in drones.

_What if no one could stop Pallus?_

* * *

Varus was walking to the market that the Institute held. Instead of having to get food from one of the peddlers like usual, he finally got the fireplace built for his small room and could cook. He had to live in a different room for a week, the large bed he had to sleep in, engulfing him like a lone ship in a tidal wave. The room had a similar effect, but he dealt with it the best he could. He was glad that he could actually make food in his regular room now.

Today, his usual garb on the battlefield was replaced by something he was more akin to wear before the invasion. He wore a white cloth around his shoulders that extended to right above his navel, with a navy vambrace extending from his elbow that held leather on the fingers that hid his demented hand and forearm.

He had pants on today too, much to many champions and summoner's surprise. Being half-naked bothered him solely due to the words others said about him. He knew that they couldn't grasp his situation, but he didn't want to encourage the jeers at him; so he requested pants made for him, their construction almost making his legs look natural. The boots that peaked out from under the indigo hem were matching to the leather on the hand that he held his bow in and just as well-made.

He ditched his diadem, but he still kept his gray hair back in a knot, except for a few strands that extended onto his forehead.

He walked through the market until he got to an overweight man in an apron, selling chicken and beef. Varus inquired him on prices and ended up paying him a few silver coins for the chunk of poultry he received, wrapped in brown paper. The league didn't pay little, but not everything here was free and when he looked for some cheap rice, his gaze drifted past a tall woman, with hair, bleached from the sun and tan skin.

Her face was beautiful and she carried herself with the grace of a veteran warrior. Varus gritted his teeth. _This is her, this is my purpose_.

Riven was the leader of the contingent that ruined his life. Her name was at the top of the list of those he desired vengeance on. Overwhelming anger coursed through him. His eyes were burning holes into her back and he felt his bow slowly seep from his glove. Noticing the bow starting to appear, he forced it back under his skin.

He knew that if he did something here, he couldn't get vengeance on the others who were guilty. And if he did kill Riven, the institute would seek to punish him. Since Varus was already under a death sentence, what could they do to him? He could not hide his view as he went to buy the rice, violently throwing a gold piece at the vender, paying at least three times the amount necessary for what he took.

Riven turned to find his eyes drilling holes into her, a deep seated anger displayed on his face. She held eye contact with him, not backing down. She looked pained, he thought that she was trying to look like she was innocent or not to blame. He could not think straight, the fury starting to breach the brim of his self-restraint. Varus started moving away. He would wait, today, but one day, she shall know his revenge.

* * *

Varus unlocked the door to his room, twisted the handle and started having trouble opening it. He pulled for a little bit, then gave up and kicked his door in, ripping it from the hinges. Stone dust fell from the air and in the light, the suspended particles almost coated the room in their gold reflection. He set down his food and decided to calm himself down by meditating, something he hasn't done for years, but something he still remembered how to do from his years at the temple.

"Hello, Varus. I didn't expect you to be someone to meditate," a voice drifted to him. Unaware of who entered his room without his knowledge, his eyes shot open, bow flashing into existence.

"Leave," he told Karma, eyes violent with intent to only give her one chance.

"That's pretty rude for someone who only wishes to help you," Karma told him.

Taking his time to respond, Varus closed his eyes and breathed deeply from his nose, to swell his stomach and have it exit through his mouth. He slowed his heart and forced his thoughts to exit his mind, allowing only the things that happened around him measure in his senses. Karma sat down, Varus was unable to see it, but could determine the result from the displacement of air.

"Why are you here?" Varus asked.

"Just wanted to get a look at what Irelia has said is a man reaching his breaking point," Karma said, continuing, "So does he speak to you yet? Pallus? I hear that when the corruption speaks is when it is close to taking over."

Remaining unresponsive for a few minutes, Varus only asked, "Is there a way to stop it?"

Karma's sad look and modest reassurances were enough language to write a book.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ok, just realized that Syndra came to the league 4 months after Varus. Now I feel stupid… But for the consistency of the story, I won't change what I have already written… :/**

**Thanks for reading thus far, hopefully you've enjoyed the story. I swear, this will be my last note for a while, I just REALLY want people to tell me what to do to get better.** ** - BoredTodai**

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Past**

* * *

Syndra heard about the new champion that came to the League only a few days before he passed Judgment. His name was Varus and apparently, according to the rumors, he was an Ionian that was like her. People didn't really like being around him, he unsettled them. But what other rumors were to be heard, Syndra wasn't privy too. Most champions avoided her. Her reputation from Ionia preceded her.

When she heard that Varus, the Arrow of Retribution, was moving in next door, she was secretly excited. She developed a far-fetched hope that maybe he wouldn't be afraid of her, wouldn't think she was evil and did what the Ionians said she did; or at the very least not care enough about that to let it affect him.

She promised herself to meet him when he moved in.

* * *

_"Is everything alright?" She asked urgently, "I heard a thud and thought something was wrong or you we're hurt or something."_

_"No, my apologies," Varus explained, the muscles of his chest tense and his brows, ever so slightly showing an emotion, what she thought was worry. "I just got startled and fell off my chair."_

_"Well then," she said, relaxing the tension in her body, allowing the spheres to dissipate into auras surrounding her sinuous form. "My name is Syndra, I'm your neighbor," she pointed to darker area down the hall, "I just wanted to come down here and introduce myself before your first match..." She shifted from her right foot, to her left, feeling clunky and awkward in her skin. She really wanted them to at least be friends._

_"I'm Varus, Dark Sovereign," he replied from behind a strand of gray hair, cautiously, adding, "I've heard about you back in Ionia." _

_Her heart almost fell apart right there. She felt like no matter what she did, everyone would view her like some monster. Her white hair, he purple eyes… _

_Unable to look him in his similar, piercing, white eyes, she tried to salvage the situation, "O-oh, well, they aren't really that accurate!" She said, color arriving rapidly to her cheeks, embarrassment and shame coming across in drones. _

_"We'll for one, you're shorter than they make you out to be, but nonetheless, dangerous all the same, I'm sure," Varus stated nonchalantly. _

_Hope returned to her, she smiled._

_"I've heard about you too, but no one ever said you didn't wear clothes," she replied, teasingly, trying to change the subject to a more trivial matter. Varus slammed the door in her face immediately. She was stunned… _

_Damnit, she thought when her mind drifted back under her control, loneliness returning to replace her misplaced hope. How was it fair? She never had social situations. She had no idea what to do; so she stayed there, in front of his door, in tears before heading back to her room. _

* * *

Back when she was little, Syndra was different from the other kids. She played with the children in her village, but she could do things they couldn't. Whether she was rescuing lost pets, levitating or skipping rocks, she used magic. The elders were scared of her.

…

"You're reckless, Syndra. What will you do when you accidentally hurt someone?" Elder Erkla asked her.

"I won't hurt anyone!" she pleaded, but it wasn't enough for them.

…

They decided to send her to a large, abandoned temple, in the middle of nowhere, so if she did lose control, she wouldn't hurt anyone. The person put in charge of her was an elderly mage. Her whole life feeling her power grow as fast as she was. The old man treated her like a student and a daughter. She learned a lot and felt at home even if he real parents and real friends were far away.

"Sir," she went up to him one day, "I think-"

"How many times do I have to remind you Syndra, just call me Sale," he interrupted, beaming at her from his desk.

"Sale, I think something is wrong with me," she admitted.

"It can't be too bad, come here child," he said, knuckling his long, snowy mustaches. As she got closer, he placed his wrinkled, vein covered hands on her forehead.

"So what do you think is wrong?" he asked after a while, pausing to close his eyes.

"It's like a shield is blocking me from using magic and it's pooling up, waiting to burst," she told him, becoming increasingly worried; eyes starting to well.

"Well, no. No, I was stupid and thought that you were just growing so fast that you could have lost all of your powers in a spell that was beyond your limits. This is my fault, I should have trusted you to know what your restraints are," Sale said, sadness strewn on his face.

"When will it stop, Sale?" Syndra asked, relief present in her young eyes.

"Syndra, I messed up. This spell I placed on you isn't removable," Sale decide, removing his hand from her forehead, "A rookie mistake, but you shouldn't be harmed. When it breaks, you should be fine. That shouldn't be for a few hours, so Syndra, let's go to river, I want to teach you about summoning."

"But," she started.

"But not, we're wasting time, let's go on that walk," Sale said, rising and cracking his back.

Sale was like her father, the last person she truly loved. When he passed away later that night, she didn't realize at first that the spell killed him, but it became apparent quickly. She cried for hours and didn't know what to do. She thought about coming to the Ionians for help, but they made that decision for her when they came to check up. Her face was stained with tears when they accused her of killing Sale. She repelled them from her home and with the restraints gone, she ripped the castle-like temple she lived in from the ground.

...

The Ionians said that she killed him, that she couldn't control herself and that she was some power-crazed being that was hell-bent on destroying them.

* * *

She wasn't the most popular champion and she was glad that she wasn't in more demand. It wasn't that she didn't regularly win, she was rather strong, but difficult to control by summoners; so those who did summon her were usually good at her. She preferred the quiet of her room over the constant pressure of the battlefield.

The time she spent out of the Fields of Justice, she generally spent in her room, perfecting her arts, watching matches, trying new things and sleeping, a lot of sleeping. She didn't do much, but she came to the League to at least show that she wasn't an alien. When she did come out of her room, eyes hunted her, seeing her and immediately scorning her. She always remained isolated from everyone, like she carried the plague. Once a week Syndra stocked up on food at the market and made it as much of a show of her normalcy as possible. She heard some people thought she never ate, walked or slept.

When she first arrived to the Institute, she made sure to ask for a room far from the Ionians. The leaders of the Institute obliged her, but Irelia, Shen, Akali, Kennen, Master Yi and Lee Sin made it known on the first night of their disapproval of her presence. They tried to threaten her, but she knew they couldn't do anything in the walls without punishment and Syndra thought that she could probably defend herself, even with the damping power that the Institute had. Karma wasn't there when the rest of Ionians confronted Syndra and she has never gone out of her way to make her feel unwelcome. Syndra didn't know what to think about that, but she, herself, was too afraid of the possibility of her disapproval to face her.

* * *

When Varus returned a few days after he came to ask for a towel, she was happy. It was almost a sign that he didn't avoid her like the rest of the Champions. He didn't care that she was The Dark Sovereign. For a second, she felt hope again, even if it was just in the form of ambivalent caution from a half-crazed, broken man.

She turned as he promptly left, saying only, "Thank you, Syndra."

She pulled the towel to her chest and leaned her nose into it, hiding a grin. _This smells nice_, she thought. Syndra wasn't sure what her feelings were for the man of purple and gray, but they definitely were not negative thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: On Borrowed Time**

* * *

Varus knew that the corruption couldn't be stopped, but coming to the Institute at least slowed the progress. Every few days, Varus would peer into the mirror and see the length of a fingernail swallowed from his remaining pure skin. He tried to hide his fear, even from himself, but Varus knew that if he didn't act soon, he might never be able to avenge his family and his village completely.

The small talk he had with Karma the week prior made him try to consider his options, which he now found available to him. Mainly, they consisted of either eventually losing control on the alien that resided in him or what he felt was betraying his purpose, but likely saving more from the harm that could come.

* * *

His first match in a few days had many of the other champions at central court looking visibly relaxed.

"Free win," Corki said, head leaning back as he laughed, "I wanted a real match too!"

As the summoners sent them to the Rift, Varus was placed under the control of a powerful summoner. When they all got the Fields, He heard Kayle say, "Why is Aphromoo using that one? That _champion_ is so weak."

Varus walked away with a snarl on his face. He hoped that this Aphromoo, or whoever, didn't get him killed. His support, Leona, got to lane early. Leona was silent, but it was apparent to him that she didn't want to be in the lane with him. The way she avoided eye contact and had a sturdy, rigid demeanor made him figure that her silence was because she didn't want to lose the game by making him play worse. Both of them migrated to the river bush and waited without speaking, hoping that they could catch Corki and Alistar if they were leashing blue buff for Vi. To their amazement, Alistar came alone, not bothering to use a ward in the bush and met a face full of Leona and Varus. Leona's smashed her towering shield into the big bull's face and made him stumble. the apparitions from Varus' bow sank into his flesh, ripping the sineous masses layered on him.

Alistar flashed over the wall after the stun was over and Varus charged his piercing arrow, which required him to brace his footing, and aimed into the fog over the river wall and released, hearing the sound of flesh rip. "Nice," Leona told him. "Glad that you aren't so useless as to not attack an unmoving target."

"Thanks," Varus told her, emotionless, noting the hostility. The first half minute was great for them. Whenever Corki approached them to kill the summoned creeps in lane, Leona showed from the bush, effectively zoning him from gold and experience. When Alistar came back into lane, it wasn't any better for them, because he had no escape or range and they were further ahead by the time he got back from healing his wounds. Leona and Varus stayed back as the lane pushed toward their turret. When they reached the tower and the bolts of power started to fell the creeps, something felt wrong. Leona was a little too far ahead and Alistar was far in front of the creeps attacking his tower.

As soon as the commands in his head ordered him to start to backpedal, Vi burst from the river bush that Leona had yet to ward, right arm coming forward for a dash that missed Leona narrowly. When Vi missed, Alistar ran into Leona head first, smashed the ground and knocked her up. Varus was stuttering his steps, from the commands of the summoner controlling him, while firing his bolts into Vi and Alistar. With each tink of the false metal that got lodged into their armor and flesh, the corruption attached itself like a lion waiting in the shade on their person, present, but not yet harming them. Their skin became pale and there was an audible cringe-like noise when he struck each a few times. Leona raised her shield and bashed Vi, causing her to stop and find her balance, right before the support flashed to Varus. Corki flew in, leaving a wake of fire in his path, passing in front of his support. His gatling gun activated and Varus felt the pelting on his back. Walking backward, Varus launched a volley of arrows high into the sky, desecrating the earth below, causing the enemies to slow while popping the blight stacks from within them. Weaving around the scattered, sharp shafts of arrows in the ground proved to be just enough time for the summoner controlling Leona to stop and attack a minion.

Luckily for them both, that minion's death was exactly the amount of experience they needed for the restraint on their strongest abilities to break. Leona raised her shield, surrounding herself in a golden light and called down the power of the sun on top of Alistar, who stood directly behind Corki. The purple minotaur backpedaled and Corki flashed out of the range of the flare, but right into the Tendrils of Corruption from Varus' outstretched hand. The wiry, purple leashes wrapping up the ship Corki sat in, disabling the throttle and calling forth the corruption present on his person from before the gank started. Leona threw her blade and dashed to the immobilized Corki while Varus quickly finished the slowed Alistar with a small arrow to the back before turning to the snared Corki struggling to kill Leona. Vi was to the left, charging her dash, the pistons on her enormous glove emitting steam.

Varus focused Corki first and finished him with a downpour of arrows, arms reacting faster than normal, the weapon in his hands, almost controlling itself. Right before his small ship exploded, the tendrils wrapped around Vi's legs and stopped her mid dash, a short distance from Varus. With a charged arrow, Varus finished her, the arrow cutting deep and unleashing the explosive poison that was the taint of his corruption, and he laughed._ Finally_, he thought, _someone who can use me like I should be used._

"Was that a triple kill?" Leona asked, laughing along with him. "I didn't know that you can actually get kills."

"What's better is now, I got the Crest of the Ancient Golem, too. She decided to take her blue camp from their Orianna," Varus told her.

"Wait, so Alistar walked into the river bush late for no reason at the start of this match?" Leona asked him, questioningly.

"His summoner must have stopped paying attention," Varus told her.

* * *

The game went great. He ended up getting another triple kill and a few doubles, ending with a score of 18-3-9. Varus smiled, _I would like to see Graves call me weak after that. _Another thought occurred to him at that moment, _Now people will actually want to summon me…_ His smile faded and he realized how much he liked not having to be under other people's commands. _I just hope that I don't get stuck in a lot of Bronze-priority disputes, now_.

Over the course of a few days and many matches, it seemed like the consensus over him previously had vanished. Wizfujiin, Cop, Tabzz and Yellowpete started to summon him regularly and even renoun summoners like Imaqtpie, Genja and Doublelift used him in important matches that decided major policy for their nations. Varus appreciated that people finally figured out how to use him, but he soon found himself to the edge of his physical and mental limit.

As soon as he rose in popularity, he ebbed. His lack of mobility and powerful lane counters kept a lid on his performances. People reverted to other champions and left him all but out of play. He was still summoned, but now it was at a manageable rate. He rise in popularity did help him with many other champions, but, he knew that most still took him as a piece of zigg's work, fuse already lit; which he couldn't argue was completely far from the truth. When he walked through the halls of the institute, he felt the eyes of someone on his back.

* * *

Varus rarely saw Syndra in his games. She was rather niche to the summoners, but the one game he did play with her in it, he considered himself more than lucky that she wasn't playing against him.

Syndra was an amazing sorceress. She held herself suspended in the air, her head reaching a solid foot above Varus' and the ornamental plate behind it rising to a even more staggering height. The dark solids that rotated around her did not hesitate in their simple, repetitive path. The way the summoner moved her was interesting; he or she must have been rather experienced with how to play her, because each step was calculated, placing her far from danger, but in the perfect spots to punish her opposition's mistakes. She seemed to manipulate the air around her opponents in walls that crippled, disorientated and crushed them. It was something truly amazing, if unnerving.

Once, Syndra caught him staring at her ploy and at first, he held the gaze, expecting her to look away and not caring one way or another that he was being rude, but the minuscule smile he saw unnerved him almost as much as the summoner who he met on the first day in his room's- if for different reasons. He quickly looked away, but it was too late as Shyvana jumped from the fog of war in her dragon form to crash on his neck, killing him and ending his spree.

His summoner was furious, relaying "lag" to both teams through their communication systems.

...

As Varus got back to his room, he was glad that the day was over and he could relax. He frowned and opened his new door on shiny, undamaged, brass hinges and walked to the mirror. He lifted up his half-cloak draped over his shoulders and inspected the rising tendrils. Today they looked unmoved, but he knew better. The tip of the tail of the Clever Owl was consumed. A week ago, the tendrils were only up to his hip bones.

* * *

The eyes that were glued to his back made no end and no matter how hard he tried, his keen eyes couldn't make out any shapes in the crowds and shadows of the institute. Varus decided he was just paranoid and rejected the thought that someone was watching him.

* * *

"Hey, Varus, can we talk?" Riven asked, hints of empathy in her voice.

"No," was all he responded as he walked past, barely able to force his own body to follow his commands.

Riven didn't speak, but accepted it as a end to their conversation. Decidedly, Varus thought it wise she didn't try. He had a purpose after all.


End file.
